


Who the fuck is Jimmy Stidham?

by cellardoor



Category: Young Avengers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-30
Updated: 2013-01-30
Packaged: 2017-11-27 14:41:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/663172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cellardoor/pseuds/cellardoor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So, who is he? Who is this mysterious jock with fictitiously blocked airways and the ability to make Billy blush years later?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Who the fuck is Jimmy Stidham?

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks a million to feebleabp for the beta, this would have been left to rot without her! I started this thinking it would be stupid and fun, but ended up completely breaking my own heart. So, um, just in case, I'm really sorry?
> 
> A [link](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/mozzarellaroses/27624881/27511/27511_original.jpg) to the infamous mention of Jimmy, for those who haven't seen it!

 

Who's Jimmy Stidham? Who the _fuck_ is Jimmy Stidham?  
  
Teddy laughs through the question, so Billy guesses he just enjoys making him squirm and isn’t actually all that interested in the answer. After all, why would he be? He's not about to be threatened by awkward mouth-to-mouth action in ninth grade gym class. He was fourteen once, too. Granted, he probably worried less about zits (God bless alien genetics, seriously) and a little more about falling asleep in class and accidentally turning green as he drooled on his textbook (it always was, somehow, just kind of _his_ colour.) He'd still been that guy with a crush on a straight boy, it was a rite of passage, or something, Teddy tells him, pulling a face. Apparently, you haven't experienced the true pain of puberty until you've fallen pathetically in love with someone who just isn't interested in your gender. Adolescence is cruel, and very unusual. (No one knows that better than they do.)  
  
Given Billy's wry retelling of his adolescent woes, the picture he paints is that of a awkward, geeky loser giving some attractive jock tentative CPR and inwardly wondering if this counts as his first kiss. It gets a chuckle, and Billy has his own reasons for wanting to maintain this illusion. What’s even left for Teddy to wonder about? He's heard all the important stuff. Billy's first crush. Coming out to his friends. He even had the dubious pleasure of watching Billy unwittingly out himself to his parents. What's left to know?  
  
Instead, he grins, kisses Billy's nose where it turns pink in embarrassment, and Billy stays mysteriously quiet on the subject.  
  
So, who is Jimmy Stidham? Who is this mysterious jock with fictitiously blocked airways and the ability to make Billy blush years later?  
  
  
For a start, he's not a jock. He's not quite weedy, but he's definitely skinny, and he can't play football for shit. He has the apparent misfortune of being born with scruffy, ginger hair, and myopia, for which he wears thick-rimmed glasses. He rejects the idea of contacts because putting things near his eyes freaks him out, so he needs special safety googles to go over his glasses. This is how Billy first meets him, in their freshman Chemistry class, labcoat buttoned incorrectly and red hair escaping in wild tufts from around the elastic holding his goggles. Hydrochloric acid in one hand, a beaker in the other, and wearing a grin of such genuine enthusiasm, it looks almost false. He looks utterly, completely ridiculous. Billy likes him immediately.  
  
Secondly, he is not straight. Or at least, he is not very good at being straight. A publicly acknowledged and self-confessed nerd, but kind of cute in a mad scientist sort of way, and there are plenty of nerdy girls looking for just that. It's understandable, Billy thinks, in a deeply objective way. Deeply, deeply objective. He, however, is completely immune to the charms of Jimmy's freckle-smattered grin. So immune, in fact, that he encourages Jimmy to date said nerdy girls. Because he's a good friend, right? A fucking _brilliant_ friend, he thinks bitterly. The dates are a total disaster, and mostly end with Jimmy calling Billy from the bathroom freaking out about going dutch and oh-my-god-she-touched-his-leg-what-should-he-do. That's the first clue.  
  
The second clue is when Jimmy sticks his tongue in his mouth during CPR training. Billy's fake problems with his airways feel suddenly very, very real. This is probably one of these friendship-ruining moments, your best friend running his tongue over your lips. He should probably pretend it never happened, and stop it from happening again. Bizarrely, he does neither of these things. He is essentially making out with Jimmy Stidham in front of the _entire class_ , and he is doing absolutely nothing about it. You could say he was actively participating, even.  
  
Two days and a whole bunch of awkward silences later, he pulls Jimmy behind the science buildings and kisses him properly, just because he has to know. For five minutes, he thinks he has the answer, but then Jimmy pulls away, and that's the last cruel episode of that particular saga of adolescence, though Billy doesn't know it at the time. Jimmy carefully puts his glasses back on, the same pair Billy removed with shaking hands. He can barely breathe.  
  
He practically floats home, sitting on the sofa amidst sibling chaos with this distant, benevolent smile plastered on his face. There are some days when your mood cannot be spoilt, no matter how many pieces of lego are just waiting to embed themselves in your foot. (And in the Kaplan household, they’re a force to be reckoned with.)  
  
  
The scene is somewhat different in a week's time.  
  
Billy never knows quite what happened, whether someone saw, or whether teenagers are just super-sensitive to somewhat-resolved-sexual-tension. Probably the latter. He remembers smiling shyly at Jimmy when they pass in the corridor, and he definitely, _definitely_ remembers Jimmy smiling back. He remembers freckles. He remembers his insides bubbling.  
  
Next thing he knows, he can't turn for the rumours. Things he definitely didn't do behind the science building, things he wishes he had the _guts_ to do behind the science building. If he's going to get shit about something like that, he at least wishes he'd done it in the first place. But no - his life is as woefully celibate as ever, and kids still laugh at him on the way to class. Fantastic.  
  
All it takes to break Jimmy is three homophobic taunts, two sniggers in the hallway and one punch in the locker room. He develops a sudden, fervent interest in the girls he climbed out toilet windows to escape, and a desperate, embarrassed avoidance of Billy. It's ok. It dulls the small heartache of watching him flash his freckled smile at people Billy knows he doesn't like.  
  
It doesn't work, and Jimmy isn't in school on Wednesday. Or Thursday. On Friday, the principal pulls Billy aside and explains in a very sympathetic voice that Jimmy is transferring. He can't work out if the principal is watching for his reaction so intensely because he knows they were best friends, or because he thinks they were more. Billy shrugs pointedly, like he could care less, but bursts into tears the minute he's back home.

  
All he can offer as a wobbly, sniffly explanation, is: "Jimmy transferred."  
  
His mom, ever shrewd and and worryingly astute, makes him hot chocolate and rubs the back of his hand until he regains some form of composure.  
  
"Do you know why?"  
  
"Trouble from the other kids or something, I dunno," Billy mutters, "They were giving him a hard time." They're giving _him_ a hard time, and he’s still there. He would've taken a hundred sucker-punches in the locker room for a few minutes of laughing about it with Jimmy.  
  
"Trouble," Rebecca repeats, and there are too many layers of meaning in her intonation that Billy is too exhausted and miserable to puzzle through. He just nods.  
  
"Just stupid stuff," he says, and his cheeks burn a little, but he can chalk that down to the embarrassment of being far too old to be crying in the kitchen. Right? Sometimes he wishes his mom was a regular mom, well-versed in the art of hot chocolate but not so much in the intricacies of body language.  
  
"I'm sure it's nothing personal, honey," she says, and his stupid eyes are filling up all over again.  
  
"He could've _told_ me," he chokes, "He could've at least _mentioned_ it-"  
  
Rebecca shushes him and kisses his forehead. She wears Billy’s least favourite expression: torn, hurt and sympathetic, as well as something else he can’t quite place. He first saw it through swollen eyelids and wet eyelashes, saying _honestly, it’s nothing, I just fell over a chair_. He’s never been very good at fooling her.  
  
  
He falls asleep on the sofa, later, halfway through _The Sound of Music_ and a ridiculously huge bag of marshmallows. She pulls the blanket up over him with lingering care. Heartbreak comes in many forms, and with each, its own fallout.  
  
A few weeks later, when Billy feels a little less betrayed, he mentally compiles the lessons he's learned from this entire debacle. One, that teenagers are cruel. Two, that a kiss is not a promise, however much you want it to be. Three, that he will never compromise and let asshats rule his life. Fourth and finally, that he's pretty confident with correct CPR technique. (He'll never forget that gym class, that's for sure.)  
  
He never calls him, he never makes any attempt at contact. He tries to forget him in all but the abstract, to keep Jimmy Stidham as his motivation for being true to himself. Not letting the bastards grind him down, and so on. Radio silence is the way to go.  
  
Until now.  
  
  
Teddy meets him after school, which is adorable, and totally unexpected. Billy gets completely flustered, and ends up sending the contents of his locker flying, blushing furiously as Teddy helps him gather up his books.  
  
"I am so smooth."  
  
"You are the smoothest of smooth," Teddy agrees, grinning and leaning against Billy's locker with such casual nonchalance, Billy wants to grab him then and there and kiss him stupid. He doesn't. (Only just.) It's enough to know that he probably could. He's come a long way from being the school punchbag, to having his boyfriend lean against his locker like it's no big deal. Yeah, people are staring, but that's mostly because Teddy is all-American gorgeous and smiling at Billy like he's the best thing he's ever seen. That will probably never, ever get old.  
  
"Hey, how come you're here?" Billy asks, "Not that I in _any way_ mind, of course."  
  
"I can't pretend I was just passing through, can I?"  
  
"Nope!" Billy says cheerfully, "This is miles out of your way."  
  
"Boyfriend prerogative?" Teddy says hopefully, and they both just grin at each other for a bit like the idiots they are.  
  
Ahhh, fuck it, Billy thinks, social conventions can go to hell. Teddy seems to have the same thought, and their lips meet halfway. It's reasonably chaste, all things considered, although Billy's fingers make their way to Teddy's belt-loops without his express permission. Um, oops.  
  
Nothing happens: no thunderous applause, no booing and hissing, no lightning bolt from the sky. Just a few raised eyebrows and overwhelming disinterest. It's _brilliant_.  
  
"Well, I like it," he says lamely, his fingers still in place on Teddy's jeans. "but consider me _super_ embarrassed you have now seen my totally dorky locker."  
  
"Billy, I've seen your _room_."  
  
"Shut up, my room is a haven of sub-culture and awesomeness and you _love_ it. By your answer, though, I am assuming you did not notice the bottom left corner and I politely request you refrain from doing so."  
  
"Bottom left corner, you say? I'll have to check that out-"  
  
Billy laughs, and pulls Teddy closer. "In my defence, stalking is _totally in_ right now. It's not creepy, it's cute, see?"  
  
"I see."  
  
"I mean, didn't you read _Twilight_? Stalking: totally one-hundred percent ok."  
  
"It's a photo of me, isn't it?"  
  
"It's _cute,_ remember, Teddy." Billy isn't leaving him much personal space, but he doesn't care. "If you weren't looking at the camera, that isn't my fault."  
  
"Right," Teddy grins, "Aren't we getting a bit, uh, cozy, for the corridor, Kaplan?"  
  
"I am all out of shits," Billy murmurs, but never quite gets the chance to demonstrate his shit-giving deficiency.  
  
  
It's at that moment, somehow more intimate than their kiss, that Kessler walks past. He throws them a thinly veiled look of disgust. Billy's not scared of him anymore, but it still leaves a sour taste in his mouth. He pulls away and grimaces.  
  
"Right, we're leaving."  
  
"Who was that?"  
  
"The legendary Kessler, I don't believe you've had the pleasure."  
  
"No," Teddy says, looking suddenly horrified. " _That_ was him?"  
  
"Yep, evil incarnate itself. We mostly just ignore each other these days, but he's still an asshole."  
  
"But he's…" Teddy pulls a face. "He's kinda…"  
  
"Kinda what?"  
  
"Like, _hot_ , _"_ Teddy says, in a shocked undertone. "He's - oh, God, I need to wash my brain out."  
  
Billy laughs. "Is he? I can't be objective anymore."  
  
"Well, yeah. Pity about his winning personality, of course." Teddy rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. "It's like, the ultimate insult to injury, when shitty people are attractive."  
  
"Yeah," Billy says absently, thinking of Jimmy. "Yeah, it is."  
  
"Billy?" Teddy touches his shoulder. "What's up?"  
  
"Huh? Oh, nothing, just-" Billy tugs at Teddy's sleeve. "Coffee? I need to look someone up."  
  
  
Jimmy Stidham, just some kid with freckles and a small spattering of acne, but he's become this almost mythical figure in Billy's memory. He has to take a few deep breaths before he types it in - but there it is, his Facebook profile. He has Facebook. Billy's head reels a little with the slightly ridiculous revelation that Jimmy is, in fact, an actual human teenager, who exists. He exhales, and clicks.  
  
  
Teddy leans over with interest, having been given the garbled version of The Jimmy Stidham Story on the way to the coffee shop.  
"Now what? You going to message him?"  
  
"What? God, no, I mean-" Billy squints at the tiny profile photo suspiciously, "- maybe? Who's that in the photo? Does he have a _boyfriend_?"  
  
"Should I be getting jealous right about now?" Teddy asks, wryly raising his eyebrows.  
  
"Definitely not," Billy mutters, and there's an undercurrent of resentment Teddy can't quite wrap his head around.  
  
"Look, Billy, why do you hate this kid so much? Because he chose social acceptance over making out with you?" He ignores Billy's glare. "Obviously, the _wrong_ choice - as I can confirm - but can you blame him? Really?"  
  
Billy buries his face in his hands. "Ugh, I guess not. But I -"  
  
"Yes, you stuck it out. But you're kind of amazing like that. We can't all be so self-assured and uncompromisingly _ourselves_ , Bill."  
Billy flushes a little at that. "I'm sorry, I wasn't trying to imply you-"  
  
"No, don't worry about it, seriously." Teddy reaches for his hand. "Just - just cut him a little slack, ok? Being fourteen is hard, and we all make bad decisions."  
  
"How are you this nice?" Billy says, aiming for teasing but hitting somewhere nearer incredulous. Teddy laughs. "No, seriously, you're like, sickeningly nice. It's gross, Altman."  
  
"I'll try to be meaner from now on."  
  
"Please, you're making me look bad."  
  
  
Teddy is still laughing, and he slips his arm casually around Billy's waist. In the middle of a coffee shop. Like it's the most natural thing in the world. This is his life now, and it's wonderful. Can Jimmy say that?  
  
  
The written word, so wonderfully enigmatic, does nothing to ease Billy's nerves. It's hard to tell if Jimmy is being polite, or genuinely pleased to hear from him. It's even harder to figure out what he _wants_ it to be. They agree, ever so cordially, to meet for coffee. Billy blinks at the screen, utterly nonplussed, until he hears his mom's footsteps and slams his laptop shut in a wild panic. This is not a conversation he is having right now. This is not a conversation he is having _ever_. She has her own conclusions about him and Jimmy, and they're probably pretty spot on, which is a reasonably mortifying thought. It's ok that she walked in on him kissing Teddy goodbye in the hallway, but somehow, it will never be ok that she suspects Jimmy Stidham broke his tragically fragile, fourteen year old heart.  
  
Besides, what he's doing now looks kind of questionable. That is, staring down his wardrobe in despair, completely unable to decide what to wear. To go to coffee. With an old _friend_.  
  
It really isn't how it looks, it _really_ isn't.  
  
He arrives early, so he gets to the be the one nonchalantly sipping coffee and reading comics when the other arrives. He doesn't feel nonchalant. He feels stupid, and vulnerable, and completely at a loss. He focuses on his comics, on fictional life and death situations that make his own seem utterly trivial. It sort of works. (That's one thing he finds difficult about being a superhero. He sees and does things that throw his normal life into harsh relief, yet he never retains the sense of perspective. Case in point: the imminent return of a time-travelling genius with a penchant for conquering, and all Billy can think about is how Teddy touched his shoulder, and if it meant anything.)  
  
It works too well; Billy is so engrossed in his comic that he doesn't notice Jimmy until he's right by the table, fingertips resting on the back of the empty chair nervously.  
  
"Hi, Billy."  
  
Billy smiles awkwardly, pushing the empty chair out with his feet and gesturing for Jimmy to sit down. He does, looking relieved. As if he'd been waiting for permission.  
  
"So, wow," Billy says, tapping his cup to find something to do with his hands, "you look exactly the same."  
  
"Um, thanks? You don't." Jimmy cradles his own coffee with nervous intent. "Look the same, I mean."  
  
"Um… thanks?"  
  
They look at each other for a long moment, then start laughing.  
  
"I'm sorry, that was probably the stupidest thing to say in the history of ever." Billy winces. "It's such a useless observation."  
  
"I don't know whether to be flattered or offended." Jimmy grins, finally familiar and freckled and radiating good will, and Billy thinks, _flattered, definitely flattered_.  
  
"Neither do I."  
  
Jimmy takes a long sip. "Flattered, probably." He looks up at Billy with a particularly indecipherable expression, almost furtive.  
  
Billy clears his throat. "Yeah, well, the good ol' acne cleared up."  
  
"Hey, mine too."  
  
"You barely had any, asshole," Billy mutters, narrowing his eyes at Jimmy, who laughs, the tips of his ears pink.  
  
"Superior genetics, Kaplan, _superior genetics._ "  
  
"Gosh, I wish I could have such low melanin levels. I just love the feel of the sun indiscriminately burning my skin."  
  
  
It's easy. Too easy. Billy wanted it to be difficult. He didn't want to _like_ Jimmy, didn't want to make him laugh, didn't want to be noticing the way he's changed. He surreptitious texts Teddy under the table (' _HE'S NOT AN ASSHOLE TED HELP'_ ) and lets the conversation flow, somewhat helplessly. They cover everything from school to siblings to video cards - with the obvious exception of Billy's extracurricular witchcraft -but completely ignore anything that may or may not have happened behind the science building. It did happen, right? Billy doesn't normally doubt himself, but the way Jimmy talks, you'd think they'd done nothing but no homo fist-bumping.  
  
  
He could accept it, he could let them fall into the easy rhythm of friendship and slot Jimmy back into his life. Or, he could do what he does best. That is, to charge in, all guns blazing, and demand the answers he never had. His phone vibrates, and he ignores it, fixing Jimmy with a somewhat petulant stare.  
  
"So, you know," he begins, all righteous fury, "I felt pretty shitty when you transferred."  
  
Jimmy shifts in his seat. "Billy," he says, part plea and part denial.  
  
"Because you _kissed me_ ," Billy continues, far too loudly, Jimmy wincing and glancing around nervously. "Definitely at least once, and I'm, like, ninety-nine percent certain it was twice."  
  
Jimmy can't meet his eyes. "Billy-"  
  
"You left without telling me, and I really liked you, and you - you-" Billy gestures inarticulately, only to finish lamely: "- you could've _called._ "  
  
There's a long silence, after which Jimmy finally drags his eyes to meet Billy's. His gaze is unexpectedly icy. "So could you."  
  
"Me?" Billy snaps, "How was that on _me_?"  
  
"Because you knew what you wanted, Billy," Jimmy says miserably, "You always knew what you were doing, and there I was, floundering through life like every other fourteen year old boy in the entire world."  
  
"So you left me to get on with it."  
  
"Yeah, that's right." Jimmy snaps, "Nothing to do with not liking getting the _shit kicked out of me_."  
  
"There are worse things!"  
  
"Sure," Jimmy says bitterly, "But I didn't know that then."  
  
  
Billy expected to be angry, but he never quite expected to be speechless.  
  
  
One awkwardly paid bill later, they stand outside the coffee shop in the cold, a little lost for words.  
  
"I like you," Jimmy says, very quietly, "I wish I could fix this."  
  
Billy pulls him in for an awkward hug. "Don't. I promise, I'm the biggest ass ever. You should know that after today."  
  
Jimmy half smiles. "Right."  
  
"Also, there's nothing to fix, ok?" Billy sticks his hands in his pockets, and stares at his feet. "It worked out, even if I ended up sort of creating a version of you to hate and motivate myself with. Healthy, huh?"  
  
"Yeah, well, the imaginary you I hoped to eventually impress wasn't too healthy either. But, here I am."  
  
"Impressing me is definitely not a worthy aspiration, but for the record, you turned out ok."  
  
"You turned out exactly how I imagined you would," Jimmy says, and he looks so very sad and lonely that Billy finds himself muttering an apology.  
  
"Stop apologising, you idiot," he says, giving Billy a friendly shove. "Also, I think your boyfriend is waiting for you."  
  
"My boyfr-" Billy blinks. He hadn’t mentioned Teddy at all, which in hindsight, seems like kind of a dick move. "Huh?"  
  
Sure enough, Teddy is leaning against the wall nearby, watching them with interest. He catches Billy’s eye and shrugs apologetically. _Boyfriend prerogative,_ Billy thinks, and smiles.  
  
“Just a guess.” Jimmy says, scuffing his shoes against the sidewalk.  
  
“Um, yeah,” Billy feels his ears burning. “He’s - we’re - I mean, um.”  
  
Jimmy push him in Teddy’s direction. He hears a faint, somewhat flat: "See you around, Billy," and then Jimmy is walking in the other direction.  
  
  
He runs towards Teddy in ill disguised relief, only half aware of Jimmy's eyes still on them.  
  
Teddy’s hands goes to his waist, a little possessively - not that Billy minds.  
  
"I thought I'd swing by before you went completely _High Fidelity_ on the poor kid, but something tells me I'm too late."  
  
"I'm a horrible person," Billy bursts out, and buries his face in Teddy's sweater. "I need to be committed."  
  
"No, you're not," Teddy says, with far too much surety for Billy's liking.  
  
"I feel like it."  
  
Teddy sighs, but fondly. "Did you get my text?"  
  
"Text?" Billy scrambles for his phone. One unopened message.  


_remember to pick your battles._

  
A small, wry smile spreads across Billy's face. "Will I ever learn?"  
  
"Actually, I kinda hope not," Teddy says, "I've gotten attached to you the way you are."  
  
"Wow, that is the most romantic thing anyone has said to me, ever."  
  
"Shut up."  
  
"Excuse me while I swoon."  
  
"Swoon away,'" Teddy says, and Billy sort of does, burrowing his face further into Teddy's sweater and fighting the strange urge to burst into tears, semi successfully. "You ok?" Teddy adds, softly.  
  
 _No, not really_ , Billy thinks.He feels heavy and miserable. The thing is, if someone can break your heart once, you can be damn sure they'll do it again, only every time is different and horrible and new. This time, it's the morose silhouette as Jimmy makes his lonely way home in the dark.  
  
There's nothing he can do, not really. It was hard being fourteen, it was hard being fifteen, it _is_ hard being sixteen, and he's pretty sure seventeen won't bring any earth-shattering surprises. Billy is dangerous, he knows that. He's just never felt as destructive as plain old Billy Kaplan as he has wearing a cape and messing with forces he doesn't really understand. It's terrifying, and he has so much - so _very much_ \- to lose, these days.  
  
"Bill?" Teddy says, concerned. "Seriously, are you ok?"  
  
He thinks about it for a moment, hands fisted in Teddy's jumper.  
  
"It's just," Billy says, "that I've gotten attached to you, too."  
  
  
He grabs Teddy's hand and squeezes super tight.

 


End file.
